


Balancing Act

by SickSadWorldLady



Series: Four Punches Logan Echolls Threw, and One He Didn't [4]
Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:01:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8162855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SickSadWorldLady/pseuds/SickSadWorldLady
Summary: "Ten years ago the closest Logan Echolls had come to the military was Aaron’s (and sometimes his lawyers’) constant threats of military school. Movie sets. Brochures. Fleet Week. That was the armed forces. A threat of discipline and a promise anonymity." 
The final punch of Logan Echolls (for this series).





	

Ten years ago the closest Logan Echolls had come to the military was Aaron’s (and sometimes his lawyers’) constant threats of military school. Movie sets. Brochures. Fleet Week. That was the armed forces. A threat of discipline and a promise anonymity.

Ten years later and the military was his everything. Not because of some come-to-God moment “patriots” would love to trot out to masses. I mean sure, he had found the military because of such a moment. And sure, he tended to pledge undying loyalty to those few who attempted his rescue. But Logan Echolls was no one’s organ grinder--not even the United States Navy. He shunned every offer to tell his story, to swell with redemption and ask for forgiveness. The people he needed forgiveness from wouldn’t be on the other side of the line.

So it was a strange sensation when the only other entity he’d pledged eternal loyalty to appeared in front of him three days earlier--even if he had invited her. 

Now he felt himself in the epicenter of his life, a life he had tried to live on the fringe for so long. Two forces pushing and pulling from opposite ends, Logan desperately trying to stay balanced.

And then there was Carrie. The gravity pulling all of them down. She deserved better. Better than the fate that succumbed her, and certainly better than his stoic, almost non-existent grieving. At first he hadn’t slept; didn’t wash his face, the splashing of water almost as painful as it’s stillness. Then his life moved on, barreled actually. Police. Miranda rights. Lawyers. Leave. There was no choice. Move on or get swallowed, and he wasn’t ready to be swallowed, not after he’d worked so hard to fight the current.

Carrie became a tragedy in the past; and Logan just couldn’t allow himself to become a tragedy as well. Not now. 

Instead he channeled his younger years, the time before he got a car and freedom, when he simply internalized his physical and emotional pain. He channeled his military training, the ability to stay cool under pressure. 

That is before her, before he saw her smile, felt the heat radiate from her body in the car next to him. Now he focused his energy on her, on the fleeting feeling that every moment was their last, shocking himself every time it wasn’t. Knowing eventually it would be sent his nerves to their outermost reaches, only to be turned away by the voices in his head telling him to stay calm. 

Again the pushing and pulling. Be loyal to her or be loyal to them. Until that moment he had to choose. He barely twitched. It was always her. It would always be her. 

He felt the brush of former acquaintances as he slipped through the crowd. Spotting the smug hyenas cackling at their prey, he pounced. Grabbed a hold of the guy’s shoulders and drove him into the wall. A crowd enveloped around them but he couldn’t be bothered to care. 

Like always it stopped being just about her. The frenetic energy of the brawl encapsulated his feelings; his emotions performing an interpretive dance to ‘Logan Echolls Symphony in C.’

Punch after punch landed without thought. Images swirled of the past nine years. The highs and lows which seemed to travel in tight packs--Carrie one day, Veronica the next--played before him as he released every ounce of anger, sadness, frustration, and loss of hope. 

Then it was over. Just like that. Barely a minute it seemed had passed when water, his closest ally and mortal enemy, stepped in and broke the spell. He draped his arms pathetically over his head suddenly aware of his own ridiculousness once again. 

This was Aaron Echolls’ lasting legacy. A punch to show loyalty, a punch to avenge, a punch to punish. Every outburst rooted in his father, and his father as well. A generational fault he clung to and admonished simultaneously. 

Drenched, clothes reeking of stale, rusting water, he ambled around for a little, not wanting to stay, but unable to leave and meet again the faces he’d forgotten but apparently hadn’t been allowed to forget him. 

Instead he watched her for a moment. Her newly (or new to him) adult form once again taking charge. The ease with which her body still danced through a crisis, knowing exactly what to do and where to go. Her rhythm flawless as always. Even when he had hated her there was no freeing himself from Veronica Mars. She pushed and pulled and occasionally the oppositional forces got it right. Perfect balance. Those moments had sent shivers down his spine. It was love, but more, a feeling of physical grounding. He momentarily stopped spinning.

So he followed her, stalked really, a number of feet back. Watched her as she paused to speak to their old principal, delivering a truly Veronica-esque performance. He noted the way Clemmons, too, seemed struck by her force. Maybe today he’d find equilibrium again. 

Maybe not. 

She stopped suddenly at the landing, proffering relief to a man at the top. Piz. 

Again.

It mirrored their last interaction in so many ways. Veronica with Piz. Logan tending his wounds. Logan going home alone. This time he didn’t feel jubilant with hope or victory. He was wet, alone, and outcasted by everyone he knew. 

Logan had grown up in the last nine years. Grown strong and capable like few believed he could, and yet all the same Veronica was going home with Piz, he was being charged with murder, and now he’d be left to wonder whether the perpetual frat boys in the fracas would press charges. Or the hotel. If they did, and Veronica somehow managed to save his ass again, he’d still likely face military reprimand. 

Taking each step with the strength and force required to walk a straight line on the moon, he lingered awkwardly before announcing his intention to leave. He wasn’t sure why he waited for a second or even told them his plans at all, but his goodbye and soft ‘thank you’ to Piz felt like an acknowledgement of concession. He knew he had no claim on Veronica, no right to relinquish her from him in the first place, but nonetheless that’s what it felt like. 

He made his way to his car with barely enough energy to start the ignition, this time without hope she’d run after him or feeling of redemption. Just another Logan Echolls punch, and another empty night. Ten years hadn’t taught him nothing. Even if Veronica let him protect her, or at least hadn’t bitten his head off for doing so, at the end of the day Logan was going home alone. At the end of the day, purer motives or not, he sat alone on the outside, not so different than his father. 

He thought back to that first punch he threw for her, how for so many years he’d equated that punch with their first kiss, assumed it was the underlying cause. That each punch was a carnival prize won for her. He’d foolheartedly clung to that despite all evidence to the contrary.

So as Logan Echolls drove off, slipping past the lingering hordes, for once he didn’t feel strong, or accomplished, or simply less guilty. He found no solace in his bruising flesh, no pride in his throbbing bones. Fear instead coursed through his veins. Logan couldn’t fight his way to freedom, he’d have to settle for just hoping the tide rode him to safety.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't love the title. Suggestions totally welcome (on everything).


End file.
